


One Day

by JayJ



Series: Golden Moments in the Stream of Life [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Inevitable Downfalls, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:58:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayJ/pseuds/JayJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is your name?" He asks her every time.</p>
<p>Her answer is always the same, "I will tell you one day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try to write this story with more flowery descriptions—to practice getting better at it. I just hope it worked. I also tried to be a little clever here and there with my descriptive wording. I hope that worked too.
> 
> Enjoy.

When Rumpelstiltskin is still a youthful, passionate, newly married man with a child soon on the horizon he dreams about a girl.

In his dream, he comes upon her sitting in a field of white and yellow flowers (Baby Breaths and Forget-Me-Nots, he will one day come to know them as) wearing a simple dress made from plain linen and a delicate crown of blossoms weaved through her hair. She is humming softly to herself, toying with the flowers nearest to her absently, and seemingly oblivious to his presence.

He stares openly at her; dazed by such pure, unassuming beauty.

It is a dangerous proposition.

Abruptly, he looks away as his thoughts begin to wonder in to darker places.

It unsettles him

He then notices that behind her, distantly, there stands a majestic castle beyond anything he's ever seen before. It is an opulent and picturesque sight to behold; a palace living in a world filled with grand stories of great loves and devastating tragedies.

A place, he thinks, destined to be ravaged by darkness and broken to pieces.

The humming stops.

He stills as she looks up at him. Her loveliness and sorrow arrests him and like a charm brings him back to the light.

Rumpelstiltskin wakes up with a start and a chill, looks to his slumbering wife beside him, and prays that he never dreams of such beauty and sadness again.

But the dream continues to come.

After the first encounter he chooses to be distant and evasive—unsure of the meaning or the rationale for such a dream to plague him over and over again—so he does not dare speak to the girl, nor engaged her in any form or manner. He remained impartial and skeptical of the purpose and consistency of her presence.

But the more frequently he dreamt of the girl with flowers entwined in her hair, of her simplicity and calmness and of those persuasive eyes and eloquent lips, the more he becomes drawn to her.

Each dream, every new but not new encounter with her, he begins to pay a little more attention. Starts to memorize a new detail about her. It is here, watching her, when Rumpelstiltskin learns how to truly look at someone.

It becomes habitual and, with her, obsessive.

The first thing he knows of her is that she is vivid and golden yet secluded and cagey. There is an innate air of melancholy that surrounds her but there is also a light to her that whispers of hope and goodness that could steal his heart and threatens his soul.

Her hair, when he becomes attentive to it radiance, is too vibrant and so bright and he swears he feels a tingle in his hands at the thought of guiding his skilled fingers through each strand as if they were threads of spun gold.

Her skin, a temptation to be toyed with, is flawless and pure and of an ivory paleness; charming and snow white.

Then her eyes are devoured by his own; addictive and so green. They glimmer with an ethereal sort of radiance as if blessed by magic. Yet they shine with a heavy burden of prophecy. He can see stories in those eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin catches sight of her smile last; a consequence due to it rarity.

It is a complex sort of smile. Fleeting and layered, obscure yet challenging and quite impish—a smile like a highly guarded secret. One he greedily wishes he could manipulate to his benefit. For if he knew how to use such a power to his advantage he would make her smile for him endlessly.

It is only after he has memorized every detail of her, and when cowardice finally yields to curiosity, that he begins to entertain the notion of speaking to her.

There is only one question on Rumpelstiltskin's mind and on his lips. And he asks it over and over again.

But she only ever shakes her head, her delicate curls sway gracefully around her, and answers in a song that dances in his ears all through his waking hours.

"What is your name?" He asks her every time.

Her answer is always the same, "I will tell you one day."

The more he asks her. The more he persists—the desire to know pushing at his soul desperately— the more his little life with his wife, and his son, and his shattered spirit and broken limp, begins to crack and falls to pieces one by one.

Then Rumpelstiltskin loses his wife, and lies to his son.

"Let me find you." He asks, pleads, instead.

His boy should have a mother and he some goodness in his life again. The shadows are overwhelming him—cowardice has become a constant and he needs her strength to keep him from their lure and black promises.

When she looks at him her eyes are compassionate and knowing but unwavering in their defeat. And he sees then that she will not be able to stop the darkness from claiming him. And so she says,

"The pain and the rage will come and destroy what you are. But do no fear, one day, I will find you and what you have lost. "

But her answer instead makes him angry and bitter—one day, it's always one day—and so he lashes out.

"I love you. I want you now. I want you real. And I want you always. If I had the power, I would make it so." He knows he would never have her, not while his is like this; cowardly and so broken. But there is a dangerous honesty to his words. Power, if he had power.

She stares at him curiously, strangely, as if his declaration of love truly confuses her, "but I am not your true love." She tells him firmly, as if to persuade him away from such a colorful idea. "Your love will be a rosy beauty, dressed in blue, and as sweet as bells. She will chip your guarded heart and your devotion and passions for her will be beastly."

"Then why do you haunt me—consume and torture me like a curse?"

"To one day save you. Do you not yet see?" She smiles, it is lovely and sad. Burdened. "I am your savior, Rumpelstiltskin"

Then he becomes the Dark One and he loses her like he loses his son.

And he wants her back. The desire is as ruthless and cunning as his need to find his beloved boy.

So when the magic and power whisper their secrets, and teach him how to read his dreams, Rumpelstiltskin manipulative and destructive machinations begin.

Deal after deal after deal.

His dark power tells him to want what he wants. To make it so, like he told her he would once upon a time. And he finds it eventually. Finds a way to make her real and get his son back. His lost dreams had given him clues. And so he toys and plays with the enchanted world. Then finds a truly loving pair of heroes while he guides and seduces the poor evil queen with shattering rage and despairing darkness.

It makes him giddy with a sinister, anticipating delight.

It takes time, and tricks, and clever words but he is patient. Her golden memory brings out what little remains of the virtues within him. Eventually, once everything is as he intends for it to be Rumpelstiltskin plays the fool for the princess of cinder's risky and silly trap and, in doing so, finally learns his savior's name.

He stills, like he had done so long ago when she'd first set her green eyes upon him, as her soon to be cursed mother, the fairest of them all, utters the name of the little girl growing so bravely inside her womb.

That lovely and all-consuming name makes him feel whole.

Greedily, he takes it and writes it down again and again—precisely, uniquely, and with unyielding affection.

Then Rumpelstiltskin has a dream, with a roll of parchment crushed in his hand, and sees her once more.

Boldly he takes her in his arms, as he had always desired and intended to do, and binds himself mercilessly to her bittersweet lips; the ones that will say her name and set him free.

His Emma tastes like real hope. And he knows now not to fear. For she will find him. And be his always.

Then together they will find his lost boy.

Like she had said she would.

One day.


End file.
